


Ash in a Glass

by hotchoco195



Category: Angel: the Series, Jossverse
Genre: Drunken Confessions, F/M, Slayer/Watcher naughtiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchoco195/pseuds/hotchoco195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Lineage, Wesley goes to drown his sorrows and finds something better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ash in a Glass

Wesley sat in the bar – his bar, the one he usually crawled back to whenever his sorrows needed extra drowning. It was in a very bad part of town, but once upon a time, it had been exactly what the self-loathing outcast had needed. The violent fights that broke out on their steady schedule, the cheap liquor that tasted like liquid fire as it scalded his throat and swirled around his stomach like acid the next morning. It was not a proper Watcher’s bar – god, if his father could see him now. But that was the point, wasn't it? Wesley sighed and bleached that thought away with another sip of the warm whiskey.

Not that long ago, Faith would have felt at home here. It was exactly her kind of place, somewhere she’d stand out instantly, guaranteed of a fight or a fuck or (best of all) both. But after a few months with Mister Dependable, she’d started to soften. Hell, maybe that was just maturity. Maybe it was all that thinking she got done in the joint. Maybe it was the whole coming to terms with being a murderer and grappling with redemption. Tonight was about finding a little of that not-so-old Faith and having some fun. Can’t save the world every night.

Wesley looked up as the waitress took his empty glass and silently ordered another, barely nodding. He supposed she was a pretty thing; maybe once he’d emptied a bottle or so he’d ask her home. She wouldn't say no – they never did these days. Without a drink in his hand he was forced to look beyond his table for distraction. There were the usual after-work drinkers at the bar, the more serious lushes tucked away in their corner booths. A couple of girls danced slowly to the ridiculous neon jukebox, probably hookers, definitely underage. And there was a woman at the bar that seemed to fit while being completely out of place. Her foot tapped with nervous energy as she leant on the counter, waiting to be served. She was well built, curvy but he could see wiry muscles under her tight denim jacket, her black leather pants moulded to strong thighs. She ran a hand through her tumbling dark curls and flicked a glance behind her, and he almost choked on his tongue.

Faith forgot all about ordering, dragged herself off the bar and slunk over to Wesley’s table in her new, grown up walk. It was still the hip-swaying stalk of her first years as Slayer, when she knew every man’s eyes were following her across the room, but there was something a little more business to it now. Now she wanted them to know she could take them one handed, and if they weren't up to it then don’t bother.  
“Never thought I’d see you in a dump like this.” She raised a brow.  
“Really? From your last visit I got the impression it’s exactly the sort of place you’d expect.”  
“What, we talking ‘bout crazy Wes here? Yeah, you seemed a little wild back then. But there were circumstances.”  
“As there are now. I’m afraid I’m not going to be much company, if that’s what you’re after.”  
“Hey, no big. If you wanna do the pensive thing I can shimmy my way back to the bar and leave you in peace.”

She half turned, but his indestructible manners kicked in.  
“No, of course. Please sit.”  
Faith gave him a look like she didn't really believe him, but she slid out of her jacket and draped it over the back of the chair, dropping down just as the waitress returned with Wesley’s scotch.  
“Can I get you anything miss?”  
“Sure, bourbon, lots of ice.”  
Wesley waited until the girl was out of earshot. “That was almost subdued. I take it you’re not really here for the company either.”  
“Actually I am. Looking for a little fun.”  
“Oh dear. Should I call the police, give them fair warning?”  
It might have been an insult in that cold, proper voice, but his tiny wry smile made her laugh.  
“Sadly I'm not up for that much excitement. Got into a bit of a thing with some cops back in Sunnydale and I think I've seen enough police brutality for one lifetime.”  
Wesley nodded. “The Hellmouth tends to bring out the best in people.”  
“Well it’s done all the damage it’s gonna.”  
“Indeed. Well done on your apocalypse. May I ask what you’re doing back in Los Angeles? I was told everyone else had fled the continent.”

Faith sighed, suddenly sounding old. It was something he’d noticed since they’d broken out of jail – the girl that had always been buzzing with youth and the power of her calling was much more serious, calmer, more contained.  
“There was this guy Robin. Fought the good fight with us. He was a civilian, so no big rush to follow B and the others off on their Slayer-gathering. His mother was one actually – the girl Spike killed in New York? Which went down real well. Anyway, he got the whole Slayer thing so I decided to stay with him for a while. We went to Mexico.”  
“And?” Wesley prompted, keeping Spike’s return to himself as promised.  
Faith paused as she took her drink from the waitress with a friendly smile and sipped it with a grimace. “God Wes, what do they serve in this shithole?”  
“I’ve had worse.”  
“Yeah, me too, but I think I’ve risked life and limb enough to deserve some decent liquor!”  
“Is that what you got in Mexico?”  
“Persistent much? Yeah, we had some fun south of the border,” and he ignored her suggestive wink, “But in the end it just didn't work. He wanted more than I was ready to give.”  
“I know the feeling.”

*****

Faith watched the ex-Watcher over her glass. He looked good, all scruffy and lean, more agile and muscled now. His jacket was worn brown leather, his shirt open to the start of a smooth chest still untouched by California sun. His eyes were such a melted blue without his glasses, and they looked straight through her like she was no more than a ghost. He wasn’t so blind as the young man she’d met in Sunny D, and he didn’t seem as intense as the one she’d seen last year.  
“So you never told me why you were here. Big man at the evil company and all, sure you’ve got an office full of expensive hooch you could be swallowing.”  
He looked away and cleared his throat – and why hadn’t she ever noticed that big rosy scar across it?  
“I just...needed to get away.”  
“What, that’s it? I spilled my guts way too easy. Should have made you work for it.”  
“Alright, I’ll give you something more substantial if you answer a question for me.”  
“So long as it’s not about prison or my underwear, go ahead.”  
“Were you happy, with Robin?”

She was silent, and a whiny ‘80s rock ballad drifted into their evening unopposed.  
When she finally answered, her voice was even huskier than usual, like a smoker’s rasp. “Geez Wes, I don’t know. I guess yeah, I wouldn’t have been there with him otherwise.”  
“Perhaps it was just what you needed at the time. Or what you thought you did.”  
“Hey, the deal was one question. Now I get to ask one. What’re you running from?”  
“My father – or what I thought he was. What I thought I was.”  
“Nice and vague there Wes. Wanna elaborate?”  
She didn’t want to push, and old Faith would have just shrugged and ordered another round. But adult Faith said Wesley needed someone to listen, even if it had to be her.  
“Now who’s breaking the rules? It is my turn.”  
“I was never much for rules Wes.”  
“I thought you’d moved past that.”  
“Thought you’d moved to it.”

She smirked and he took another sip with an unsuccessfully stifled grin.  
“Alright, fire away English.”  
“So why are you back in LA, of all the places you could be?”  
“It’s odd, hey? Not really my kind of town. Too sunny, too friendly, not nearly enough evil – or not the kind I can smack around anyway. I dunno, I had some idea of travelling back East but I needed to figure things out first.”  
“It’s a whole new world of possibilities for you now I suppose. You’ve got an army of Slayers that need to be taught and watched over.”  
“Which is what the Watchers are for,” she snorted, “Me? I’ve got no patience for teenagers. Didn’t when I was one.”  
“Still, having them around grants you a certain freedom. You’re not tied to any one place, you’ve got time away from your duties.”  
“Well the place thing is true – and the time I guess. Could go back to school, get a respectable job, nice little apartment, date a couple of guys that aren’t losers for a change. But I couldn’t give it up Wes. I can’t ignore it; it’s like this itch in the back of my skull and if I don’t get to sink my fists into the big nasties every so often, I go nuts.”  
“I see you haven’t changed as much as I’d thought.”  
She smiled. “You can take the girl out of the fight but you can’t take the fight out of the girl. It’s my calling Wesley. All that time in jail, just thinking? Nearly killed me.”

She laid her empty glass back on the table with a sigh.  
“So my question is: who did you think you were Wes?”  
“That’s not an easy question.”  
“Nothing easy about the game Wes.”  
He stared off past her shoulder as he answered, looking at something in his mind instead of the bar’s dank concrete walls.  
“I thought I was different now: seasoned, wiser, capable and in control. People turned to me for the answers, and I always had them – or found them.”  
Faith waited as he petered off, then shrugged. “Sounds fine to me.”  
“Ah, but to some, no amount of success will make up for past failure. You should understand that Faith.”  
“Ouch. But total bullshit Wes. Yeah, I can’t make up for things I’ve done, but I live with them. I just try harder, do better.”  
“But is it enough?”  
“You tell me. Couple of years ago, us sitting here have a quiet drink and sharing our stories would have been unthinkable.”

He gave that funny little cough again, and Faith wondered if it was the stiff upper lip thing that made him choke on all his big confessions.  
“A couple of years ago, I didn’t see you were my biggest failure. I’m sorry Faith – I should have been a better Watcher. I should have been what you needed, instead of trying to make you what I needed.”  
“No sweat Wes. I didn’t really have any great love for authority back then, and you just did what you thought was right. We were both new at the whole thing, ok? Let’s forget it. Now get on with your question, I need another drink!”  
Her laugh was so throaty, so sincere. He knew she meant it, and even if he never forgave himself for his screw-ups, hearing her do it helped.  
“Alright, here’s mine. Do you want to get out of here and get some real whiskey?”

*****

“New place Wes?” she asked as he shut the door behind them. No need to lock it when there was a Slayer around, even a tipsy one.  
“I wanted something a bit closer to the office. Something with less...memories.”  
“I like it. Very simple, not all sharp angles or stuffy antiques.”  
She fell back onto the plain tan couch and kicked off her boots, crossing her legs on the seat as she fussed with her hair.  
“Wes?”  
“Yes?”  
“You wanna stop staring and get us a drink?”  
He shook himself out of it and hurried towards the cabinet where the TV should have been. “Of course.”  
For a second he contemplated fetching glasses from the kitchen, but decided guest or not, Faith wouldn’t mind. He grabbed two bottles and walked back to join her on the couch, dropping his jacket over the side.  
“What’ll it be? We’ve got Southern Comfort or Chivas.”  
“I’ll take the Southern. Chivas reminds me of this guy I used to date.”  
“Date?” Wesley raised an arch brow.  
Faith giggled. “Fine, screw. He was a drummer.”  
“Apparently one with expensive tastes.”  
Faith raised the bottle. “To drummers living beyond their means.”  
“Hear hear.”

They clinked bottle necks gently and drank deep.  
“God, so much better than that shit at the bar. Surprised you even bothered.”  
“It was worth it in the end, for the company.”  
She gave him a lazy smile, leaning back on the cushions with her legs up, sprawling across his furniture in that very territorial Faith way.  
“Shame you didn’t get your ‘fun’ though.”  
“Why Wes, itching for an excuse to have a good time? I got plenty.”  
Wesley could feel himself sinking into that point where the alcohol flowed over his bones, warming every inch of him to a deep fire at the core and scouring his head of old judgements and new. He glanced over at the brunette with red lips wrapped around the bottle and wondered how much effort it took to get drunk with a preternatural constitution.  
“I’m sure I’m a real barrel of laughs, old stick in the mud Wesley.”  
“Please, nothing sticky about you. I told you before, you’re not that guy anymore. You’re practically badass.”  
He laughed, and even though Faith looked like she was worried he’d gone into hysterics, he couldn’t stop – just laughed and laughed until he started to cough.  
“Easy now big guy – I said practically.”  
“No, no you’re right. I’m a real Dirty Harry.”  
Faith stuck out her tongue. “If he was a pasty English mystic, mayb-”

The rest of her taunt got lost as Wesley crushed his lips to hers, his bottle placed safely out of the way as he captured her face in both hands. Faith, for all her super reflexes, sat there stunned as he kissed her. She couldn’t think of anything beyond kissing him back. Wesley pulled away gently and she stared at him, utterly speechless. He prised the bourbon from her hands and laid it on the floor beside the couch and she still didn’t move.  
“Faith?”  
Her name, whispered in that voice that could be hard and rough and tender, snapped her out of it. She leapt into his lap, fingers curled in his short hair as her lips rippled against his. Wesley wasn’t surprised for more than a second and then his hands were on her, one smoothing up and down her back as the other wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer, their thighs squashed together in leather and denim. A little voice in his head wove through the stream of oh-God-Faith-oh-lips-oh-sweet-wet-harder-hungry-God-want-must-urgh-tongue!-tongue and lips-oh-Hell, protesting quietly that he was her Watcher and this was definitely frowned on by the Council. The other, drunker, wounded Wesley told it to shut up. He wasn’t watching anymore.

Faith felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her torso was stuck to Wesley as he sucked all the life from her lips like a vamp, pulling her closer to him with those pretty new arm muscles. Why hadn’t she done this years ago? Oh right – cos this Wes wasn’t around back then, or she would have paid much more attention during training. His big, male hands slid under her singlet and pushed it up, and she leaned back to let him pull it off. He reached for her again but she resisted, moving forward to place a kiss on his jaw right near his ear. She moved lower, just under the bone where it met his neck, then again closer to his collar. She moved all the way across the other side and up to his temple, sharp little kisses that were fleetingly cool on his skin. She attacked the buttons on his shirt next, much more delicate than he would have expected. But no, there was the fire he was waiting for as she ripped it down his arms and flung it over her shoulder, her kisses now trailing down his chest. With nimble hands she disposed of his belt, snapping it teasingly before it too went on the floor. He kicked off his shoes and socks, the move rubbing his thighs against Faith’s shiny painted-on trousers.  
“I might need a hand with these.”

She stood and popped the button on her fly, dragging the zip down slowly. Wesley leant forward and tugged at the fabric over her knees. With his help she shimmied out of them and pushed him back on the couch, straddling him in just her bra.  
“How very appropriate.”  
“I think you mean inappropriate, or have you been dating some girls I need to hear about?”  
There was something, a flicker in those sky blue eyes, and then he was all business again. He unclasped the last scrap of clothing covering her toned, tanned form and tossed it aside. Wesley tugged a handful of those curls that smelt faintly of something smoky – not cigarettes, more primal, more like warm earth. He pulled Faith’s head to the side and worked his tongue up and down her jugular, nipping lightly. Was that a whimper?

Faith squirmed in Wesley’s lap, cursing herself. Since when did she squeal over any guy? She hadn’t even done it for Robin, and she’d been pretty fond of him. But Wes with the slight stubble and that hard jaw and tight stomach, bookish Wesley was turning her to jelly. Something had to be done. Faith slid backwards off his knees, lowering herself to the floor. She pulled once, hard, and Wesley’s jeans joined her at his ankles. She braced herself on his knees, pushing them apart as she leaned in and licked his stiff member. Wesley sucked a hiss back through his teeth as she circled the head with those crimson lips. Faith’s tongue massaged his hot flesh and flicked over the tip, seeking out every drop of salty precum. Her warm little breaths on wet skin made him shiver and thrust upwards. Faith smiled around his cock and swallowed it, sinking down almost to the hilt before pulling all the way up again. She did it again, bobbing up and down with just a hint of teeth on the vein underneath. One hand crept up to run over Wesley’s chest while the other gently fondled his balls, pulling just enough to tingle without causing any actual pain. He was muttering some nonsense, sliding his hands over her hair and trying not to dig his fingers in and just fuck her mouth. Faith took pity on him and held him deep into her throat again, alternately between a low hum and a hard suck until he erupted with a sweet groan.

Faith was patting herself on the back for taking back control and making Wesley moan in that very un-Watcher-like way, when she was dragged back into his lap. One second she’d been kneeling at his feet and the next she was lying on the couch under a very naked Wes energetically licking his seed off her tongue. She wrapped legs and arms around him, being careful not to grip too hard, but she knew he’d be bruised all the same in the morning. Wesley moved lower, sucking hard in a line along her collarbone and leaving a trail of little red hickies before he turned his attentions to her breasts. He took each pale pink nub between his lips like they were a rare delicacy, his tongue flicking over them tentatively, the barest touch electrifying somehow straight to her spine. She fought to lie still as he worked them between his teeth, pinching one while he sucked the other, his fingers everywhere at once as they swept over the smooth mounds of flesh. He was licking in short, sharp strokes along the sensitive skin just underneath when she realised his hand was gone. Cool fingertips were snaking down her taut torso, past her navel and then skimming across her pelvis just above the short black hair that covered her mound.

Wesley almost sighed contentedly at the first brush of his fingers through Faith’s coarse black curls. She gave a little twitch, as if she was holding back pleading words that her body was determined to tell him anyway. Sweeping lower, his fingertips danced over her slick cleft, dipping in slightly and continuing down over her thigh. Faith’s hips shifted just enough that his hand ended up back in her crotch. He kept kissing her goosebump-covered breasts as his fingers stroked her gently over her folds, memorising the swollen lips and the parts of her thigh with the softest skin. Faith made a moan no louder than a whisper, and he relented. Planting sweet kisses up her neck, Wesley parted her flesh with his thumb and slipped a finger into her wet warmth. Faith hissed and pushed her hips up to close the gap between her clit and his thumb, fingers clenched in Wes’ short hair. He bit her shoulder and she gasped, his finger swirling around her entrance for a moment before he added a second. His thumb pressed down on her nubbin in hard, small circles while his fingers flicked in and out of her, his kisses moving lower again. He licked long strokes up her hip bones without slowing his caresses below, and she was losing the battle with her lips. Wesley’s tongue replaced his thumb on her clit and she gave up completely, moaning loud and arching her pelvis into his face. She could almost feel his triumphant smile but she really couldn’t give a fuck between the hard, fast licks and the steady thrusting of his fingers.

“God Wes, I’m close, almost there, come on Wes-LEY!”  
He closed his lips over her clit and held it tenderly between his teeth, sucking hard. At the same moment his fingers pushed just a bit deeper and connected with some place inside her that felt criminally good.  
“FUCK Wes!”  
Faith almost leapt off the couch as her orgasm rippled up through her; her bucking was enough to knock Wesley over the arm. She panted hard as she stilled again, limbs suddenly floppy as she sank back down. After a moment she found her voice again.  
“You okay? I didn’t break anything did I?”  
The ex-Watcher pulled himself off the floor. Slayers. They never warn you about that.  
“Quite alright. Terrific, even.”  
“You can say that again. Where did you pick up that skill set?” she winked.  
He smiled wryly as he fell back onto the couch beside her feet. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”  
“Technically, it is my turn to ask a question.”  
“We’re not playing anymore Faith.”

He didn’t look serious, like he was about to tell her it was all a big mistake and she could sleep on the couch, but in a way that meant get out. He looked positively...hungry. This Wesley was so much more a whole man – he was commanding and stronger, no matter what he thought. In the half-light leaking in from outside, she could see the thin white scars crisscrossing his chest and shoulders and she suddenly felt like her bourbon was about to come back up. It was a heavy ball in her stomach as she looked at the marks she’d given him. Did that help him become this new Wesley? Or did she just break the old one so badly he had no choice but to rebuild? She sat up, shuffling closer until she could reach out and almost touch one scar. She looked at him timidly, asking permission. He nodded with a neutral expression, and she ran her finger over it slowly. It felt just like the rest of his skin, almost invisible to her fingertips.  
“I don’t think I ever apologised for these Wes.”  
“I wouldn’t have accepted it if you had. Back then.”  
“And if I said it now?”

She was looking at him so imploringly with those big dark eyes. They’d certainly come a long way from a bare apartment and a piece of broken glass.  
“I’d know you meant it. And I’d tell you it didn’t matter. The past is just a bad memory, for both of us.”  
She nodded grimly, and he stood. Wesley offered her his hand and pulled her up into his arms. He tilted her head back and captured her lips again, brushing aside their brief serious moment as he walked backwards to his bedroom, kicking the door open with a helping hand from the Slayer. He spun her around and fell onto the mattress on top of her without his tongue leaving her mouth. They slithered up the bed together, torsos kissing as they wriggled. He grabbed hold of her wrists and pulled them over her head, his lips demanding on hers. His thigh nudged her legs apart and pressed against her crotch.

She didn’t wait to see if he’d stop her; just started rubbing herself against the hard muscle as he bit her chest along her collarbones. He shifted his leg further over, forcing her to spread wider and feel him all over her flesh. His cock was hard against her thigh as they rocked together to a rhythm set against their quiet moans and the tap of the headboard against the wall.  
“Come on English. Show me more of this new badass Wes.”  
He released her wrists and lifted her hips, one fingertip ducking into her entrance for a second to make sure she was ready. The silvery sheen on his skin screamed yes, so without any further ado Wesley drove himself into her so fast that they were welded at the hips before Faith realised it was happening.  
“God yes! So tight.” Wes muttered, his eyes half-closed as he paused to absorb the grip of Faith’s walls around him.  
“Fuck Wes, don’t stop with the dirty talk. God you feel so perfect stretching me out like that.”

Neither of them acknowledged Faith’s word choice – tonight was not a routine night for either of them, and they had come to some kind of silent accord that this was about scratching an itch, fulfilling a need that wouldn’t be there again in the morning. Instead Wesley just hauled her up by her pelvis and started sliding out of her slowly, letting her feel every ridge of him as her muscles grasped at it, then driving back into her as quickly as he had the first time. They kept up the pace, a slow withdrawal followed by a sharp thrust, and that second when he was poised at her entrance waiting to plunge in again made her feel like she was covered all over with spiders that tickled her skin.  
“Come on Wes, I’m the one s’posed to do the teasing round here. Give it to me!”  
Wesley tutted. “Aren’t we impatient?”

Faith growled and took advantage of his pause to flick her hips, rolling them over instantly. She repaid him for earlier by pinning his upper arms to the sheets, leaving all her weight on his biceps as she rode him with Slayer speed. She had to be careful she wasn’t too rough, but the collision of her against his pelvis every time she sunk back onto him was sending hard jolts through Wesley, and he didn’t fight her grip on his arms even when he started to get tingles in his fingers. Faith threw her head back and let her little whimpers get louder, sliding her clit over the base of his abdomen on each thrust. With a breathy shriek she came, clenching down on him until the older man had sunk into the mattress an extra inch or two. But he didn’t care, because the second Faith’s preternatural muscles locked around his prick he was coming into the tightest quim he’d ever found, his face screwing up into something more like the old vulnerable Wyndam-Pryce. They both rode out the rattling of their bones, panting hard.

“Wow. Not what I was expecting tonight.” Faith laughed. She lifted herself off Wesley, who winced as she let go of his arms and the blood rushed back into them. The dark Slayer collapsed onto the bed beside him.  
“Me neither.”  
“So, Watcher mine-”  
“You haven’t called me that in as long as I can remember.”  
“Sure I have. It’s what you are after all.”  
“Then if the Council could fire me a second time, I’m certain they would now.”  
“Nah, new Council baby. Giles and B understand I’m still not great with restrictions.”  
Wesley just nodded, too exhausted. He suddenly had a much better idea of why Buffy kept falling for vampire lovers. They didn’t wear out as easily. Faith settled into his pillows, not curling up to him the way even cold-hearted Lilah had. He liked it, that sense that they didn’t have to pretend they could console each other now. What they’d just done was much more of a comfort to him than cuddling could have been. So he rolled over slightly, still curved towards Faith but only touching her enough to reassure her he wasn’t going to kick her out, and they both promptly fell asleep.

*****

Wesley woke up at the time his alarm normally would have gone off. Blasted forced leave. Angel and the others were so concerned about him, with all their helpful comments about patricide. He glanced over at the empty spot beside him. Well that was inevitable. But Faith surprised him, walking out of the bathroom in just her trousers.  
“Hey Wes. Didn’t wanna wake ya. You looked kind of tired out.”  
“You can wipe that smug little smile off your face. You seemed pretty beat yourself.”  
“Well, can ya blame me?”  
She walked out into the lounge and found her singlet, shielding those glorious breasts that were not helping his morning wood. She retrieved her boots and somehow forced them on without unlacing them, the leather well-worn and soft after years of heavy-handed treatment. With jacket in hand, she walked back to lean on his doorframe.  
“Guess this is me hittin’ the trail Wes. Gonna find another Hellmouth I think. One not crawlin’ with Slayers yet.”  
“I hear there’s one somewhere near Sydney.”  
“Other side of the world. Sounds like an adventure.”

She shrugged on her jacket and nodded. He smiled the smile he saved for people he might never see again, and she left. He heard the apartment door click shut and knew she wouldn’t be back. But his trip to the bar had certainly perked up his spirits about a thousand times more than expected, and he jumped out of bed, wincing as he examined the bruises over his pale stomach and arms. War wounds, he smirked to himself. Whatever will Angel say? Imagining what the stern CEO would think of smelling Faith all over her ex-Watcher made him suddenly anxious to scrub every atom of skin off, and he limped into the bathroom with a truly new-Wesley smile.


End file.
